What If?
by AssassinOfRome
Summary: Sirius creates the What If Machine and all Hell breaks loose. Characters from The Holes Roleplay. Hopefully better than the summary! Read, review and enjoy! Rated T for swearing and abuse in later chapters. AOR
1. Work in Progress

**Hi! AOR here, doing mah thang! I came up with the plot of this story whilst being bored in German, which might explain the randomness. I don't own any of the characters excpet Sirius (Who is mine, so stay away! *Brandishes flaming torch*). All of the characters are from the Holes Roleplay I am on! So special thanks to yellow 14, hot chocolate mess, HeatherCullen111, ImperfectPerfection72029, Mrs. JiYong Kwon, hypergeek21 and anyone I may have missed. I also don't own the What If machine, which is from Futurama. Erm... couplings are Zanley, Sirius/Sookie, Magnet/Arista, Alie/Squid and Heather/ZigZag. That's all... I think. On with the story!**

**Catch ya on the flipside, Holmesies!**

**Peace!**

**AOR**

"Yo man, knock it off." X-Ray growled as he lay on his bunk, chatting to the other boys. "You've been tinkering for hours. It's getting annoying." The other boys nodded in agreement. Sirius, who had a splattering of oil on one pale cheek, glared at him, silver eyes narrowed. His black curls were almost as wild as ZigZag's and upon close inspection, you could see a nicotine patch on his left wrist.

"I am on the brink of scientific discovery. Please do not interrupt me." He replied, crisp British accent bleeding through. Magnet sniggered.

"What's so funny, Jose?" The lanky teen asked. Magnet glared back at Sirius.

"How are you on the brink of scientific discovery? It's just a hunk of junk. How did you get half of that stuff anyway?" Several of the other boys nodded in agreement. How did Sirius get a TV screen, a blow torch and mask, a can of gold paint and about a ton of metal in the middle of the Texan desert? Sirius suddenly looked very embarrassed.

"Ask no questions and I'll tell you no lies." He replied mysterious, returning to his work.

"Man, I never get anything he says." ZigZag sighed. Armpit sniggered. Zero, who was curled up on the end of Caveman's bed like a cat, stared at the machine with fascination. Caveman stroked Zero's afro gently and he purred.

"What is it, Padfoot?"

"The name's Sirius and this," He gestured to the collection of nuts and bolts screwed onto metal, "Is the What If machine."

"The what?" Armpit asked.

"The What If machine!" Sirius replied, annoyed. The other boys got up and inspected it.

"Doesn't look like one." Twitch commented.

"Well, what does one look like, genius?" Magnet replied. Twitch shrugged.

"Not like that." Everyone except Zero and Sirius laughed.

"What does it do?" Mumble asked, longing to touch the blowtorch, which Sirius quickly snatched away.

"Ask it a 'What If' question and it'll show you a video of what would happen." Sirius said proudly.

"That's bull." Christian said from the doorway. Sirius ignored him and continued to fiddle with the machine."

"Does it work?" He asked, stepping closer. Sirius looked defeated.

"No. Not quite. But it will!" He snarled. Stanley was reminded of his father, so bright and eager about his next project. It almost broke his heart. Zero, noticing this, wrapped his arm around his boyfriend's waist. Christian laughed.

"It's just a stupid piece of metal." He kicked the machine over. Sirius' eyes widened, almost comically. The D-Tent boys all tensed, ready to attack the one who had upset one of their pack.

"You bastard." X-Ray spat. "Do you know how long he's been working on that?"

"Long enough. Aww..." He put on an annoying voice. " Is Poor Baby Sirius missing Queenie?" Sirius was reminded uncomfortable of his father. His insides squirmed at the memory. He then gasped. A puff of purple smoke erputed in the British teen's face, obscuring him from the other boys' vision.

"What's wrong?" Magnet asked, confused.

"Sirius, talk to us!" ZigZag cried, worried when the other boy didn't answer. The smoke cleared and Sirius was again visible but now looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards. One of his eyebrows had been singed off. He coughed.

"Oh My God, are you OK?" Squid asked. Sirius nodded, still coughing.

"What happened to the machine?" Twitch poked the burnt-looking invention. Sirius shrugged.

"I have no idea. Probably a technic-" Sirius was silenced by a loud cool feminine voice ringing through the tent.

"Online."

Sirius grinned. All of D-Tent looked gobsmacked.

"No... way!" Christian gasped slowly.

"It's ALIVE!" Sirius shouted, giving out a loud manic laugh. Everyone stared at him. He shook his head rapidly.

"Sorry."

"It actually works..." Stanley was mistified.

"Told you so! You owe me your shower tokens for the next week!" Armpit replied, grinning.

"Don't worry Stanley. I'll win them back in pool." Zero whispered. Stanley smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Now, someone ask the machine a question." Sirius smiled.

"Erm... What if... What if... the sky were green?" Mumble asked. The screen turned blue and a video came on. It was of a green sky and lots of people walking around, just like normal. The video faded.

"Well that sucked." Christian replied.

"I agreed but I suppose, if the sky were green, no-one would know it was supposed to be blue. So everything would be normal. I guess..." Sirius replied. "Someone ask something else."

"What if we never met? No one came here to Camp? What would happen then?" Armpit asked.

"That's a good question." Sirius mused.

"Show all variations?" The voice asked.

"Please." Sirius responded.

"I've got a bad feeling about this..." Zero stated but the screen had already turned blue and the vision began.


	2. Drowning In A Sea Of Beige

"Stanley! Breakfast!"

Stanley blearily opened his eyes and sat up, yawning. He rubbed his eyes and stared around the room. It was the same as it had been when he had fallen asleep. He was still in his shirt and boxers. The sky was still blue. Stanley sighed. Like he did every morning, he hoped something might be slightly different. Clyde Livingston beamed cheerfully at him from the wall. Stanley stared at him and felt drawn to look at his shoes. World Series Cleats. Like every other morning. Red X's on the back. Still. Sighing once more, Stanley changed into his clothes for the day and trudged downstairs.

"Hi honey!" His mother said from the kitchen. "Sleep well?"

"Same as always." Stanley replied.

"That's good. Your father's in the bedroom." She gave him a smile and handed him two plates of toast. Stanley used his back to open the door to his parent's room.

"Dad! I brought you toast!" Stanley's father looked up from admiring a shoe and looked at his son.

"Thanks!" He took the toast and they both munched on it in silence.

"Got anything?" Stanley asked, hoping he didn't sound too desperate. He couldn't helping being disappointed when his father shook his head.

"Nope. Nothing." They both ate more toast. Stanley glanced at his watch and picked up his rucksack as he left his parents bedroom. He checked his water-damaged notebook was still inside before heading out the door, shouting goodbyes to his family. As he walked down the stairs, he saw the landlord glaring at him. Feeling mischevious, he tipped his red cap at him. The landlord's sour expression didn't change. Stanley scowled at him, leaving the building. He took a deep breath of city air. It smelt and tasted exactly the same. Slowly, Stanley dragged himself to school.

* * *

><p>At school, Stanley sat at his desk. Several people around him chatted quietly. Stanley paid them no attention. He just stared into space and doodled in his notebook. He looked around the class. Abbie and Robbie were tittering at something Derrick Dunne had said. Michael and Steve were trading football cards under the desk. Calleigh, the class nerd, was copying down notes as fast as lightning. Eloise, the most popular and beautiful girl in the class, was listening to music through one earphone, every so often copying down a sentence. Stanley stared at her, wondering why he didn't feel attracted to her. She was very very pretty and very very nice but... Stanley didn't know what it was but she felt bad to him. Everytime he looked at her, he thought it would become obvious what was wrong but nothing ever came up. The rest of the class were just staring at the teacher with glazed expressions and their heads in their hands. Everything was normal, the way it should be. The way it had always been and always would be. It was so ordinary and expected and average and Stanley wanted to scream because it was so dull! He wanted to throw books. He wanted to kick chairs. He wanted to fall to his knees and cry because everything was so boring! Life had become tedious and bland. Stanley wanted to be inspired, excited, interested in living. He was living in a black and white world. No, worse that that. Stanley Yelnats the Fourth was living in a beige world. And it was driving him insane.<p>

"Mr Yelnats, what are you doing?" Mrs Bell's voice interrupted Stanley's slightly disturbing thoughts. The teen blinked and realised he had been scribbling over a picture he had drawn. Looking past the graphite lines, Stanley saw he had drawn a lizard curled around a shovel. The drawing was surprisingly good, seeing as he hadn't been looking whilst he was doing it. Mrs Bell was now looming over him, glaring with her beady eyes.

"Mr Yelnats, this is a Math class, not Art." She picked up the doodle and turned her glare at it. If looks could kill, the paper would have been on fire. Mrs Bell was looking at it as if it had done her some personal wrong. She screwed it up into a ball and threw it in the bin.

"To remind you that this is a Math class, you will all get an extra hour's worth of homework." She snapped. The class groaned and sneered at Stanley, who sighed. He just wished that Mrs Bell hadn't screwed up the drawing.

As Stanley left the class, he reached into the bin and pulled out his drawing. Gently he straightened it out and shoved it in his notebook. He didn't know why he'd kept it. It wasn't a brilliant drawing but Stanley liked it. He spent his real Art lesson trying to recreate it but failed miserably at every event.

* * *

><p>On his way home, Stanley decided to stop off at Laney Park. He wasn't sure why. Being far too old to play on any of the equipment without looking a bit odd, he settled for sitting on a bench and watching people go by. Mothers with prams walked along snootily with their noses in the air. Men in big coats hurried through, wishing they were somewhere else. Old people threw bread for ducks who just weren't hungry. Stanley's eyes locked onto another pair from the dark of the tunnel under the swinging bridge. As a child, the swinging bridge was the part that Stanley had avoided playing on. Some older kids said there was a monster that lived in the tunnel and ate any small children who crossed the bridge, like the Billy Goat's Gruff. And now Stanley was staring at a pair of dark eyes that were the colour of melted chocolate from under the shadow of the tunnel. Stanley didn't think they were monster eyes; they seemed too nice for that. But they were eyes that had seen a lot and didn't want to see much more. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Many things that were never uttered aloud were spoken of. A single blink from Stanley was all it took to ruin the moment. He looked again and the eyes were gone. Quickly, Stanley walked away from the park, wondering if he had imagined it.<p>

* * *

><p>Stanley lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling. The only light came from the street-lamp outside his window, which gave everything an odd orange glow. His notebook with the strange drawing lay on the beside table beside him. His grandpa was snoring loudly. All Stanley could think of were those eyes he had seen. They were so beautiful. A wonderful colour. So big. So bright. He didn't know why he felt this way about them, but he desperately wanted to see those eyes just one more time. He knew he never would and eventually fell into a deep sleep, full of people. There was a dark skinned man and a blonde woman. There was also a dark skinned woman and a man that looked a bit like him and through-out these dreams a gentle melody played.<p>

"If Only, If Only, The Woodpecker sighs..."

* * *

><p>The screen faded to normal and everyone was looking at Stanley with bemused expression. Stanley himself was holding Zero tightly and Zero was holding Stanley back just as tight. The room was silent.<p>

"Still think it's a hunk of junk?" Sirius asked shakily. Magnet shook his head.

"Vision Two." The cool female voice called and the screen changed once more.


	3. The Little Match Boy

It was the last day of the old year. Light spilled generously from every window and the cheerful sounds of laughter and music filled the night. Sometimes, through and uncurtained window came a glimpse of people sitting with their families, watching television and holding each other close. All over the city, people were gathered together in wonderful parties to hail the birth of the New Year.

Outside, the death of the old year was mourned in cold, dark streets, their empty silence mocked by the merriment of the revellers within. Snow fell thick and fast as one barefooted boy wandered, lonely as a shadow, through the deserted streets.

Snowflakes clung to the curly afro that bounced out from his head, and his wan cheeks were wet with tears. He was cold as the ice around him and his insides ached with hunger. He was tired and scared of the approaching darkness. Still, his hands, numb and sore, clung tenaciously to the little bundle of matches which he had spent all day trying to sell. But no one in that hurrying, excited crowd paused for even a moment to look with pity at the poor Zero who stood, with outstretched hands, pleading for a single penny for one of the bundles of matches that filled the pockets of his tattered hoodie.

There would be no customers now. But even wandering the streets was preferable to going home to the beating that he knew would await him if he returned with the matches unsold.

His cold limb aching, he sat down in the corner of two houses, drawing his feet up under his for warmth. Gratefully, he dropped his pathetic bundles of matches onto his lap, easing his cramped fingers. Still he shivered. Mechanically, he counted the little bundles... until a thought struck him. The light of even a single match might warm his frozen fingers. Drawing out a match, he struck it against the wall. It flared with a bright warm flame and Zero stared at it in fascination. There was something magical about the glow; as he looked into it, he could see a group of boys digging out in a desert. He could almost feel the blazing sun beating down on his neck.

Then the little flame flickered and died, and now Zero was back again on the snow swept street, a burnt match in his hand. Eagerly, he lit a second match and was back in the desert, this time, one of the boys was looking straight at him. He had brown hair and hazel eyes. Within seconds, Hector Zeroni knew he was hopelessly in love with the strange boy. But just as he opened his mouth to say something, the flame died out.

The light from the third match seemed brighter than the others. He was now sat on a hammock underneath two tall oak trees. He was still in the desert and the hammock was white and so very soft. Zero stretched out his hands in delight... and in that moment, the light from the match was quenched by a cruel breath of freezing wind. He almost felt like crying and tilted his head up to look at the stars which burned brightly. As he watched, one star fell, the light streaming behind it like a fiery tail.

"Someone somwhere is dying." Zero whispered. His mother - the only person that had ever loved him and who had left him long ago - had once told him that her grandmother had said whenever a star fell from the heaven, an immortal spirit returned to God who had created it.

Zero struck another match, and now in the flame, she saw an old woman with very dark skin and a very wide mouth. She was smiling, gently and tenderly, just like his mother had before she had left him.

"Please! Don't leave me when the flame dies away!" Zero cried. "Stay with me, please, for I am cold and lonely!"

Hastily, he lit all the unused matches in the bundle, lest the old woman disappear. They burned with such a blaze of glory that Zero sat in his own bright pool of light. Bending down, the old woman, who had no left foot, grasped Zero's cold little hand. Together they flew, higher and higher, joyfully and gloriously they flew. They never paused until they reached Paradise, where neither cold nor hunger nor pain could ever touch Zero again.

The bells rang out the sad old year; then joyful peals told of the New Year's birth.

In the cold morning light, a little boy of no more that fourteen was found; he had frozen to death on the last night of the year. He sat crouched in the corner of two houses, the unsold matches in her lap, one bundle which was quite burnt out.

"Poor child! He was trying to warm himself!" Thought the people, as they passed by.

But they were puzzled by the happy smile on his lips. Not one of them guessed the sweet visions she had seen before she sped, so eagerly, to a happier home.

* * *

><p>The vision faded. Stanley was crying, clutching Zero close. Zero was pale and confused. Everyone, even Sirius, was stunned by the sheer perfection of the machine.<p>

"Vision Three." The voice called once more. The screen changed.

**I don't own the plot of this chapter. It's a version of The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen. Apart from that... well... I can't think of what to say. Which of the D Tent Boys should I do next? I've got something special for Sirius but nothing really planed for anyone else. Any thought are magic! Thanks!**

**Peace Out! **

**AOR**


	4. Thoughts Before A Brain Scan

"Ricky, we need you to lie down. We're just going to scan your brain for anything that's not normal. It won't hurt." The doctor said in his bright cheery voice. He tried to make Ricky laugh. Turn it into a massive joke. But Ricky knew better. It wasn't a joke. They were going to send him away. To the funny farm where things are beautiful all the time and they'd make him happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats. They were coming to take him away!

Ricky didn't know much. But he did know he wasn't crazy. Could a crazy person know the date without looking at a calender for months? Could a crazy person tell you exactly what time it was without looking at a watch or clock or sundial? Could a crazy person light a leaf on fire with a magnifying glass and burn down an entire science block? On second thoughts, don't answer the last one.

He hadn't meant to do it. It was an accident. Honestly. He was just looking at a little caterpillar on a leaf. He didn't know that much science. Ricky didn't think that the beam of light would bounce off the magnifying glass and begin to singe the leaf. He didn't know that he wouldn't be able to stamp out the leaf because the bell rang and he had to be in English, which was at the other end of the school. He hadn't noticed the leaf was still burning. If he did, he would have stomped it out, wouldn't he?

It looked bad on the CCTV footage. Even though it hadn't been like that, all the camera saw was Ricky with a magnifying glass on a sunny day. It saw him looking at the leaf and running away after it began to burn. The camera didn't see the caterpillar. It was old and clunky with no zoom. The teachers and the police just assumed he had made it up as a cover story. Ricky was famous for his imagination. He was always telling people about conspiracies and aliens and the FBI hiding celebrities on a deserted island so they wouldn't be bothered by the press. Most people thought he was mad. So the police did too.

Ricky was arrested later that day. The entire school pointed and jeered as he was lead away. They laughed. And you know what they say. Laughter is contagious and Ricky started to laugh too, long and loud. Then everyone stopped laughing and stared with terrified looks in their eyes, even the police officers. They told him to get in the car and he did.

The doctors were more sympathetic. They believed that there was a caterpillar on the leaf and that Ricky was only looking at it. They believed that he didn't mean it. Or at least they said they did. After talking to him and writing notes, they talked to each other in hushed voices, worried expression on their faces. They injected him with drugs, gave him pills, made him do lateral thinking puzzles and now this. They were scanning him. There was even talk of sending him away to an A-S-Y-L-U-M. They always spelt it out instead of saying it. But Ricky could spell. He knew they were taking him away.

So here Ricky lay, waiting to have his brain scanned. He sighed. It was like Johan and The Whale. Ricky wasn't strictly Christian but he remembered the story from when he was little. He had like it. Ricky closed his eyes as the MRI began.


End file.
